Note: In this chapter, I deal with an interesting issue a number of you raised early in the story.
The Best Revenge
Chapter 41
"Would you like another butterbeer, Harry?"
"Er-" Manners contested briefly with greed, and went down in defeat. "Yes, please, Professor Burbage."
It was so good. Harry licked his lips, enjoying the warming sweetness of his drink. This was just about perfect, he decided.
The Three Broomsticks was crowded, noisy and smoky, but Harry loved it. Here was none of the strangeness of the Leaky Cauldron: this was a place of cheerful, homely magic. The floor was swept, the woodwork polished. The little table he shared with Professor Snape and Professor Burbage was clean and shining, and it was laden with good things to eat and drink. A Christmas tree glittered near the fireplace.
In fact, he thought Hogsmeade itself was just about perfect, too. The little thatched cottages, roofs laden with snow, were pretty as chocolate box pictures. There were interesting little shops-or not so little, in the case of Honeyduke's-full of things to look at, and even sometimes to buy.
Of course, his Christmas presents were already bought, wrapped, labeled, and left in the Common Room to be distributed. The elves and owls would take care of them. Still, there was no harm in buying a few of the little bright parcels of sweets to have on hand. And if he didn't need to give them to anyone, he would just have to eat them himself-though it would be a struggle to eat the beautiful little marzipan fruits. Maybe he would just keep them to look at for awhile. Professor Snape had shrunk his packages, and they were even now in his pocket.
Another tankard of hot and foaming butterbeer was set before him.
"Thank you, Madam Rosmerta."
Madam Rosmerta had a very pretty face and the wizards all looked at her a lot, especially when she was walking away. Harry liked her sparkly turquoise high heels himself.
All the wizards except Professor Snape, he noticed. He was frowning into his own drink, not looking at the pretty witch. Professor Burbage had noticed it too, and was smiling a little to herself. Harry was pleased. It was very nice, just the three of them. And Professor Burbage would like the present Professor Snape was making for her with Harry's help.
"So what do you think of Hogsmeade, Harry?" Professor Burbage asked.
"I like it lot," he answered at once. "It's great. Why don't all the wizards and witches live here? I don't know anybody at school who's from Hogsmeade."
"Really?" Snape looked up, surprised. "Let's see: the Flumes, the McClaggens-the son is a Gryffindor, an Urquhart in Slytherin. Some of the MacNairs, a branch of the Macmillans, but not your classmate's family, I know. Well, Harry, I suppose the reason is that Hogsmeade is a Scottish village."
"But so many people complain about being around muggles. If they just lived in Hogsmeade, they wouldn't see them, and have anything to complain about."
Charity laughed. "Maybe that's the reason!" She took a sip of her own butterbeer, and said more seriously, "There are other wizarding communities Harry. A great many witches and wizards live in the Diagon Alley enclave. Surely you noticed that the buildings were more than a single storey!"
"You mean they live upstairs?"
"Yes, many families live above their shops. A lot of the upstairs space is devoted to flats. I had a flat of my own there for a little while after I finished Hogwarts." She smiled oddly. "Before I went with my family to New Zealand."
Harry thought about that. It would be sort of neat to live right there in Diagon Alley.
"And there are the mixed villages, too," Snape put in, thinking with some distaste of Godric's Hollow. "I'm not sure it's really a good idea, but wizards and witches have lived there so long they don't want to leave, even though they break the Statute of Secrecy every day."
"But Hogsmeade is the only all-magical village," Harry said.
"In Britain," Charity corrected. "It's certainly not the only wizarding village in the world! Maybe your club needs a little lesson in wizarding world geography. There are three all-magical villages in Ireland alone."
"Really?" Harry was surprised. "Seamus Finnegan is the only Irish student I know at Hogwarts. I thought there just weren't many Irish witches and wizards."
Snape shook his head. "He's not the only one, but it's true that not a great many of school age attend Hogwarts. They would have to be living on British soil to receive an invitation, and the current Hogwarts charter does not include any part of Ireland as British soil. There are all sorts of historical reasons for that-and all sorts of anomalies. The Hebrides are Hogwarts territory, of course, and the Orkneys. Fair Isle, too, but only part of the Shetlands-"
"-and the Channel Islands, too," Charity added, "but not the Isle of Man. And by the way, there are lots of Irish witches and wizards."
"At any rate," Snape continued, "Hogwarts is very much a British institution, and the Irish have a somewhat different tradition. There are two smallish schools, but more of the children are home-schooled or are fostered out as apprentices."
"There was a great Irish school founded long before Hogwarts that was destroyed in the twelfth century," Charity told him. "Obviously, you never learn these things in Professor Binns' class, but I studied the period on my own later. The whole relationship with Ireland is very complicated. We're really only tied to them because of quidditch, and I don't want to get in the story behind that today..."
They returned to their drinks.
"I wish I lived in Hogsmeade," Harry then remarked. "I like the cottages here. Do the students who live in Hogsmeade go all the way to London and come back on the Hogwarts Express?"
"Yes, they must," Snape said. "It sounds ridiculous, but the trip is supposed to give the children a transition period between home and school. Urquhart's whole family floos to London, where they buy his school supplies and make a holiday of it. On September first, they put him on the Express, and then travel home again by floo. He likes it, he says, better than simply being walked up to the castle gates by his parents."
Harry nodded judiciously. He could see that it would be more fun.
Still, the walk back to the castle was impressive in itself. The Professors insisted on him walking between them when they decided to take the narrow path skirting the Forest. Everything was beautifully white- covered in thick clean snow. The trees drooped over the path, and occasional strange noises broke through the silence. A hawk rose up from the leafless branches, uttering a shrill "Creeeee!"
"Do you see that, Harry?" Snape pointed at a mass of something dark high in a tree.
"Is that a bird's nest?"
"Mistletoe. That's an oak tree. You can tell by the bark. Mistletoe has a number of interesting uses, depending upon how one gathers it. Sometimes one must actually climb the tree and use a silver sickle. Generally, one can simply summon it. Accio!" he said, briskly pointing his wand at the treetop. The mass dislodged and came speeding toward them. Snape retrieved a bag from his robes and deftly gathered it in.
"Might I have some?" Harry asked, and was rewarded with a branch of green leaves with white berries.
"Don't eat the berries," Snape grunted.
After a moment, he gave Charity a small spray as well. She smiled, and fixed it to the collar of her robes, by way of decoration.
The castle grew larger as they walked on. Smoke rose from the direction of Hagrid's hut . They passed the gates, and were back into the welcoming precincts of Hogwarts. Harry was surprised to see a small figure waiting for them just inside the door.
"Hullo, Muffy! We've been to Hogsmeade!"
The little elf's eyes were swimming with tears.
"What's wrong?"
"Little Master Harry," the elf choked out, "has given Muffy a Christmas present! I have seen a package from him, with 'Muffy' written on it in his own writing!" With that, she burst into noisy sobs.
"Oh, Harry!" Charity cried, "you didn't give her clothes, did you?"
"No!" Harry protested, "I know not to do that! It's just a bag of chocolates! Muffy's been really nice to me!"
The elf wailed louder. "There has never been a wizard like Little Master Harry!"
The noise was attracting attention. Two identical red heads peeped out from a corridor, exploded into guffaws, and dashed away, echoing "Little Master Harry!"
Harry groaned. He would never live it down.
"Stop this at once!" Snape commanded. "Control yourself, elf. A simple thank-you would suffice!"
"But no Master has ever given Muffy a present!"
Charity was torn between compassion and laughter.
Harry tried to explain. "Christmas presents are important! I'm really excited about them. I know people are going to give me things, and I never got a Christmas present before! You deserve a present! I know what it's like not to get anything!"
The elf stopped her bawling with a great, wet sniff, and stared at Harry with enormous eyes.
"But Little Master Harry has always had gifts for Christmases! Gifts at his birthdays! Dozens and hundreds of gifts! Muffy has seen them!"
It was a little stone room by the owlery. Snape had never taken notice of it, but quickly realised that a charm had made certain of that. The battered door opened into the little courtyard. There was a shuttered opening in the wall, which allowed the owls to drop their burdens straight through into the room's interior. The door was not locked. It had never needed to be. Without Muffy as their guide, they would not have known the place existed.
Snape kept Charity and Harry carefully behind him as he opened the door warily. Harry crowded by his elbow trying to see.
There was no window. The pale winter light of late afternoon slanted through the doorway into a room piled with parcels and scattered paper. Someone at one point had tried to keep order, but not lately. At least it was not covered with dust.
"See, Muffy has kept everything clean for Little Master Harry!"
"This is mine?" Harry wondered. He reached for a card on one of the piles.
"Wait!" Snape said, snatching it from his hand. "If this is put away, there must be a reason for it!"
"But it's mine!" Harry protested. "Why didn't I get it? I never got anything but sacks of old clothes of Dudley's!"
Charity's mouth dropped open. Snape gave her a quick and guilty "It was worse than I told you!" glance.
Harry pushed past him, grabbing at a plushie. "I would have loved getting something like this when I was a kid!"
Snape winced. When you were a "kid?" Oh, Harry!
A brightly-coloured little figurine of Merlin was next, with the giver's message still attached. Harry glanced at it. "From Doris Crockford, with humble gratitude." He turned angrily on Snape. "She must think I'm the most stuck-up git in the world, not to thank her!" He set down the figurine carefully, and grabbed at another plushie, this one a very engaging bear. "I would have loved these!" he shouted, and squeezed the bear defiantly.
The bear's belly popped open, disgorging a lump of sickly green matter. Muffy shrieked in alarm. Harry dropped the bear at once, and Charity pulled him away.
"What is that?" she asked.
Snape crouched and examined it without touching it. He rose, grimacing. "Dried bobotuber pus. It's not dangerous now, but if you had gotten this on you when it was sent, Harry, it would have blistered your skin very painfully. Your aunt would not have known what to do." He looked around the room, assessing it. "The Headmaster must have diverted all your owls here, Harry. I grant I can see why he wouldn't want you to get mail from just anyone."
Harry's shoulders sagged. "And Aunt Petunia wouldn't have liked getting owls anyway."
"But this is Harry's," Charity considered. "Much of this should be quite all right. It will take time to go through it, mind you, but we should speak to the Headmaster at once. Now that Harry is here at Hogwarts, I see no reason he shouldn't have what he likes out of it."
"-and I should read the letters, too," Harry said. "Maybe some of the strange looks I've got were because I never wrote back."
Harry was sent off to clean himself up and face the music with the Weasleys. His two professors paid a visit to the Headmaster.
"Well, I'm afraid-" Dumbledore looked a trifle embarrassed, but also rather sad. "-that the matter had slipped my mind, I confess, since I made the arrangements so long ago. I had promised Harry's guardians that they would not by bothered by the wizarding world. That was not simply to placate them. I was quite concerned from the first about Harry receiving owls. Before going into hiding, his parents had received some very nasty threats that way, and later on I certainly did not want someone to use owl post to trace Harry's new hiding place. At first, I sorted through the mail myself, and replied to it, but there was such a great deal, and some of it-" He paused. "I was cursed myself," he admitted, "by a very subtle and dangerous message encoded in a Christmas card. There were portkeys, too-and not all of them from mortal enemies, but some from foolish admirers who wanted to be able to say they had met the Boy-Who-Lived. I would have had to hire a full-time clerk to deal with the volume, and the clerk would have needed the skills of a Gringotts curse-breaker. From time to time, I've dug in and organised some it-the letters I have examined are in a blue box marked "Evening Gloves"-but I admit much remains to be done."
"I would be happy to help," Charity volunteered.
Snape glanced at her in concern. If Dumbledore himself could be cursed by some of those items, there was no way Snape wanted Charity to handle anything in that room without his protection. Grudgingly, he forgave Dumbledore for the ruse. He should have told Snape about the room once Snape's proxy guardianship was approved, but likely he really had forgotten it amongst all the other details. The reason for the room was logical enough.
"I will, of course, supervise the proceedings. My skills in Dark Arts are quite equal to it. Harry, too, might profit from helping. He also," he gave Dumbledore a level look, "might be more understanding of those who kept his only presents from him. I am rather busy at the moment, but perhaps this is something we can work on from time to time."
"A splendid idea!" Dumbledore beamed. "And I will gladly join you when my schedule permits. It will be rather delightful, all of us working together!"
When Snape explained the Headmaster's concerns to Harry after dinner, the boy was not happy, but understood. He was quite pleased at the plan to go through the room's contents. "Most of the stuff will be for little kids, of course," he said, "but it's nice to know that people were thinking of me. And that cursed stuff-"
"There's probably not that much of it," Snape assured him, "but you understand how careful we must be not to let anything slip through. Some of it is probably worn out, worn off, or otherwise made innocuous," he said, "but we can't make stupid assumptions. I think you'll learn a great deal."
"And Professor Dumbledore is going to help us!" Harry was impressed. "That's nice of him. Could we start soon?"
"We can, on Thursday morning between nine and eleven-thirty. That is the only time we all have free until Christmas."
"What about the day after Christmas?"
"The Headmaster has plans for Boxing Day. However," Snape smirked, "now is as good a time as any to tell you about some arrangements I have been working on for you." He paused, and smirked again. "How would you like for some of your friends to come for the day?"
Harry's face lit like a candle. "Really? That's great!"
"Not all of them, of course. I decided that your fellow club officers would have to do. From what you indicated earlier, your Hufflepuff friends already have plans. Three young visitors should not attract undue notice." Snape warned him, "You must understand, Harry, that I am bending Hogwarts rules a bit, and it is important you not mention this to the Headmaster, or anyone else. Draco's parents, of course, were quite agreeable. Madam Longbottom has also given her permission. In fact, she seemed rather pleased at the idea of her grandson seeing some friends. I spoke to Miss Granger's parents, and we have arranged for her to be apparated from her home and returned by five oclock in the afternoon."
"We can stay in the clubroom!" Harry burst out in excitement. "We could even have lunch there! Does Professor Burbage know?"
"She does. She will fetch Miss Granger herself."
"This is brilliant!" Harry jumped up and began walking around the room, waving his arms. "We can play games and talk about Christmas and have lunch-and-and-all sorts of stuff! Thanks, Professor!"
The Thursday owlery room session was pleasant enough. Chairs and a table were transfigured, and the Headmaster saw to the excellent lighting himself. Harry was on his best behaviour, and even rather repressed in the presence of the great Albus Dumbledore.
Snape took it upon himself to do preliminary examinations of the larger items, hoping that something here might be something to add to Harry's Christmas. Dumbledore examined the cards and letters for danger, and passed them to Snape for a final check, before giving them to Charity to read through with Harry. Charity had parchment and a Quick-Notes quill to keep track of the items.
The only items Harry was allowed to touch unsupervised were the ones in the "Evening Gloves" box. Those were mostly letters of thanks, or requests for signed photographs. Some of them were quite old.
"How did these people think I could send them a 'signed photograph' when I was only five?" he demanded.
Dumbledore chuckled. Charity shook her head.
A torn wrapper had once enclosed a half-kneazle kitten, according to the message. Luckily the creature had long since escaped the parcel and made its way to freedom, much to Harry's relief.
Snape carefully opened a longish package. In it was a small child's broom. It was from the Cleansweep Company.
"A broom!" Harry said excitedly, forgetting his letters. He looked again, and his face fell. "A kiddie broom."
"It's quite safe," Snape pronounced, examining the letter with it. "They wanted a contract with you. Advertise their brooms and get a new one each year."
Harry groaned in despair.
Snape gave a snort. "I hardly think you would have liked being their poster boy. And I think there must be at least three more brooms yet to see."
"Really?" Harry was very pleased. "Maybe I can use one of them. What do you think we should do with the things for little kids? At my school they had this collection at Christmas. Is there something like that-or like an orphanage where you can send stuff?"
Albus gave him keen, pleased consideration. "That's extremely thoughtful of you, Harry. No, there are no wizarding orphanages, nor are there organised charities such as there are amongst muggles. Charity is a generally a far more personal matter here in our small world. The wealthy often donate to St. Mungo's Hospital, and there is a childrens' ward."
"That's a good idea," Harry nodded. "I can give the little kids' things to them."
There were many boxes and parcels of sweets. All of them were long past consumption. Two of them had no sender's name, and were poisoned. Harry looked very grave at the news. The gifts were noted down, and the givers' names, and then all of them were disposed of immediately. Clearing them out took some time.
"This is interesting!" Charity said, reading through a two-year-old letter. "Madam Clothilda Fletwock left Harry some money in her will. This letter is from her solicitor."
"Neat!" Harry said, peering around. "How much money?"
"It doesn't say," Charity said, showing him the letter. "Your guardian is supposed to contact him."
"Set that aside, if you please," Snape said, looking up from another annoying plushie. "I will send an owl immediately."
"That was nice of her," Harry said, "but why would she leave me anything? Is she a relative?"
"Not that I know of," Dumbledore smiled. "though we are all related, one way or another. Perhaps she felt personal gratitude. I daresay the will explains it all."
"It was nice of her, anyway," Harry said. He noticed another long parcel in a corner and pointed. "Oh! That looks like it could be a broom, Professor!"
It was.
By lunch time they made only a dent in the room's contents, but Harry already had five proposals of marriage, a dozen plushies, three sets of gobstones, a set of charmed and bejewelled chessmen from the Turkish Ministry of Magic, a broom in good condition (which sadly would have to be stored in his room in Surrey), some childrens' books that needed further scrutiny, and Madam Fletwock's bequest.
"Wow," Harry breathed, adding a toy snitch to the donation pile for St. Mungo's. "Christmas came early this year!"
Snape took a moment to sit down and dash off a note to Madam Fletwock's solicitor. Better late than never, if there was a way to add to Harry's fallen fortunes.